Die For Your Country
by Sinical-Sarchasm
Summary: When war rampages between two sides, two countries, brother may fight against brother, father against son, husband against wife...and sister against sister. Chapter 5 is now up! (It's kinda short.)
1. Promises

A.N.: Um...I probably shouldn't start a new series, but I couldn't help myself...I know I've already gotten two going (A Second Chance and The Time-Turner, although the latter isn't really going :-(, but is more at a stand-still). Anyway, in case anyone's interested, here's how I got started on this: When I'm bored I like to type in random phrases in the search box and then search with the full-text option. Then I look for Harry Potter stories in my result. (This could be done easier if I just did advanced search, but I'm too lazy to go to a separate page for advanced search.) Anyway...I typed in "die for your country" and found that there were NO Harry Potter stories in the 24 stories that were the results! None at all! So I decided that I'd have to fix that...here's the result...hehe. Anyway, here it is, set during the summer after Book Four. If you review, more will come soon, so R/R!!!!!! 

Disclaimer: I'm J.K. Rowling. I'm j/k. 

***

Parvati Patil sighed. She hated having divorced parents. It wasn't something she thought about often, because the very thought brought surges of anger into her heart and streams of tears to her eyes, but it was true. Every year she went to Hogwarts. Then she could be with her friends without her father's constant badmouthing of her mother. It would be a lot easier to deal with if she wasn't the idealistic, sweet Gryffindor that she was, but she couldn't help that. Her father raised her, and that was how anyone raised by a man like her father would turn out: sweet and idealistic. 

At Hogwarts she could forget it all. Just go to Lavender and do her nails and look at boys. But she couldn't just stay there forever, much as she might wish, much as she might want. She had to go home to her father and hear about how awful her mother was. She momentarily wondered who this Mother was, but pushed the thought back. It was a fruitless effort, she knew. Mother was a topic you couldn't speak about at her house. 

Now she had to leave Hogwarts and go back to that awful house in Surrey where her father lived. Dang it. It wasn't that her father was a bad man in himself, or that the house was particularly ugly in itself. It was just that she hated his constant complaining about her mother, and the way that everything was strewn topsy-turvsy around the house. She wasn't a freak about having everything clean, but she did like to be able to see at least a few patches of floor now and then. She sighed as she boarded the train quietly and sat in her own compartment. 

Padma Patil sat in the last compartment that wasn't full. She generally preferred to sit alone, but this compartment was better than the rest; the only one here was her sister, Parvati. 

The two didn't really know each other. Their parents had divorced when they were young, before they were one. They'd never been able to get a straight answer out of either as to why except for "opposing each other" and "different positions on issues." At least that was what Parvati thought. 

But Parvati was wrong. 

Because Padma _had_ gotten a straight answer out of her mother. She'd known this "straight answer" since she could remember. No exaggeration. It was her first memory. 

_*Flashback*_

Mommy comes over to my bed. "Padma?" she says quietly. "Padma?" 

"What, Mommy?" I ask, voice still young and almost innocent. 

"Do you know why I left Daddy?" Mommy says. "Do you want to?" 

All I say is, "What's a Daddy?" A few seconds later I realize that I'm not supposed to ask questions I'm not given permission to ask but it's too late. 

But luckily Mommy doesn't mind this; all that happens is that a small laugh escapes Mommy's lips. "To have a baby, a child like you, there has to be a man. Daddy is what the man is called." 

"Oh," I say, lips pursed, looking into the air, absorbing this piece of information like any other. "So I have a daddy too? Then where is he?" 

Mommy looks glad I asked. I wonder why but I don't ask because you don't ask Mommy unbidden questions. She can get mad if you do that. Very mad. Mommy doesn't like to hear unsolicited questions from me. I don't know why but I can't ask that question either, so I just wait for the answer to the question I am allowed to ask: where is Daddy? 

"Daddy lives in a different country, not in France, but in England, " Mommy begins. "England is where I lived at first. That's why we still speak English here, even though everyone speaks French. Daddy and I used to think we loved each other. But then he found out about my Lord, and he didn't love me any more, and he was very, very mean to me." 

"Really mean?" I ask. I know about her Lord. He tells her what to do and he is the most important. I don't really know what he does but I don't care very much because what Mommy says goes. Mommy recently told me that he is gone but he's going to come back and then times will be good again. 

"Yes, really mean," Mommy repeats. "He tried to get me to leave my Lord every way he could. But I didn't, because the Lord is more important than marriage." 

"So you left him and came here?" 

"Mmmhmm," Mommy says. "I came to France because it's his conquered country. He didn't get England yet but he had France so I came here. But Daddy stayed in England because he put his false sense of the Lord being bad over my wisdom. But I'm a lot wiser than him, because I chose my Lord, right honey?" 

"Right," was my automatic response. "Right, Mommy." 

_*End Flashback_

Padma smiled slightly. Her mother had repeated the message, in different terms, many times. Padma believed it. Of course, she couldn't show it at Hogwarts -- Mother didn't have enough connections yet for her to act like Draco or all the Slytherins. 

And then there was the mere fact that she WASN'T a Slytherin. Slytherins somehow almost had a license to act the way they did, show off that they were with the Dark Lord. I mean, sure, they couldn't go around flaunting the fact that their parents had worked for the Dark Lord, but they could do pretty much everything else. 

But Padma wasn't in Slytherin; she was, to the slight dismay of her mother, in Ravenclaw. Mother wished she was in Slytherin; in fact, the first few months of Padma's first year had been made miserable by her mother practically torturing her over the fact that she wasn't. But, part by her mother's concession and part by the way Padma could manipulate an argument, Padma had convinced her mother that it was okay that she was in Ravenclaw -- maybe she could use this alleged wisdom to the advantage of the Lord and of the Dark Side. 

Nobody knew about that except for Mother and a few others. Not even Parvati. Not that this was too surprising -- Padma and Parvati were not like sisters but rather mere classmates. The connection of Padma to Parvati was the same and Padma to Susan Bones, and vice versa -- they were total strangers. They hadn't lived together, seen each other until they came to Hogwarts (well, except for the few months before their parents had divorced), hadn't spoken together much, and in general shared only the same parents, last name, and genes. 

Padma generally kept to herself. It was safer that way, she knew. Less chance that she might let slip a little family...secret....and ruin it all. And then there would be more to pay than she wanted to think about. 

Nobody asked why she was so quiet, so withdrawn, so solitary. For all they knew, she was just a quiet little smart girl with nothing really in her life that would make her worry or care. Sure, her shy attitude was a bit excessive, and of course most girls weren't that shy, but when they looked at her, all they did was shrug and say, "I guess that's just how she is." And it made Padma glad. That made her job of pretending a lot easier. 

Padma snapped out of her thoughts and looked over at her sister. She could see that Parvati, too, was deep in thought. Momentarily she wondered what she was thinking. Surely sweet, innocent, Gryffindor thoughts. She detested those idealistic things. It was stupid, innocence, because it was guaranteed to be stolen. So were ideals. She was glad that she'd never had either: no innocence and no ideals. Her mother had made her quite sure that she was all the better off without them. 

Parvati, evidently, didn't share Padma's sentiment. "If only I could just make this work out...I bet Mother isn't so bad as I think...I wish life would just work out." She didn't realize that she was speaking her mind -- quite literally -- in front of Padma, but Padma realized it. 

And Padma sneered as she thought, "I wouldn't be so sure. I wouldn't." 

Then the train pulled into the station and the two girls got out, not exchanging even a word. 

***

Parvati briefly peered around the station, wondering where her father was. She could usually recognize him -- he looked like he hadn't looked in a mirror when he got up that morning. Hair disheveled, robes wrinkled and worn with age, and socks and shoes usually not matching, he was a mere phantom of the house he lived in. 

Yet she didn't see a sign of such a man, and when she finally found her father, she had to prevent herself from gasping. He actually looked like he had discovered the art of using a comb, choosing decent robes, and playing the game where you answer the question, "Do these socks/shoes match?" He actually looked...half way normal! 

Parvati ran up to her father and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. "Hi Daddy," she said to him. "You're looking good today." 

As the two climbed into the car (which, Parvati noticed with even more marvel, looked as though it had finally seen a car wash), her father said, "Well, in light of recent events --" 

Parvati said, "You mean You-Know-Who's return?" 

"Voldemort, Parvati, Voldemort," her father chastised her. "Don't be afraid of the name. Anyway, I decided I better become more...aware and better organized so I could fight him...and his loyal followers like your mother." 

Parvati looked shocked -- and it was no wonder. You don't find out that your mother who you haven't seen since you were less than one year old is a loyal follower of Voldemort just every day. "My MOTHER what?????" she asked. 

He sighed. "Yes, she is. That's why she left me. I couldn't let her follow the man, so she fled to France, Voldemort's territory, and left me. She took Padma with her. All she did beforehand was filed a legal divorce." 

"Wait...France was Voldemort's territory?" Parvati said, confused, dismayed, and beginning to lose her ideals about her mother being "not so bad." 

"Is, Parvati," her father corrected, "It is, but save that whole thing for another day. I need a promise." 

Parvati's throat tightened. Her father rarely asked for promises, but when he did, they were major. And sometimes, Parvati thought, not quite a good thing to promise. But she had a weakness, even in spite -- or perhaps because -- of the bravery that had gotten her into Gryffindor, and that was that she couldn't say no to her father. "What is it, Daddy?" 

"I want you to promise me to always be loyal to your country and your cause -- to be loyal to your country even if -- nay, when -- it fights France." 

Too easy. Parvati knew it wasn't the whole promise, but she said, "I promise, Daddy," nonetheless. 

"I want you to promise that if you must, you will fight for England." 

That was more like one of her father's promises. Idealistic and brave, but not quite so together in the head. But she still said, "I promise." She couldn't resist her father's request. 

"Finally Parvati," and Parvati's heart sunk as she saw the man's serious expression, "Finally, I want you to promise that, if you must, you will die for your country." 

Parvati's good sense, her common sense, told her to say no. Why should she, a young girl, have to promise to die for her country if she had to. But she had that need to please her father, and her ingrained -- if foolish -- bravery, and so she whispered, "I promise." 

***

Padma immediately recognized her mother. One might think that, being the only Death Eater who was a woman, she would be tough, rough, and a general tomboy. Well, maybe tough and rough, but by no means a tomboy. On the contrary, she always wore the latest designer robes of Paris and looked beautiful. Parvati could almost see the men's heads turning as she passed them by. 

Padma greeted her mother with a false smile. "Hello, mother." She wasn't really terribly glad to see her -- evil people aren't generally glad to see their evil overlords or, in Padma's case, evil mothers. It wasn't that she disliked the evil part -- she herself was evil, or so she liked to believe in self flattery -- it was just that evil people weren't that much fun to live with. 

But no time to think about that now. Right now the only thought on her mind as she looked at her mother and recalled her mother's Death Eater status was regarding the fact that the Dark Lord had risen again. Her mother hadn't been at the uprising -- something she had expressed her regret over. However, she had an important meeting with the modeling agency, and though she would love to cancel it to see the Dark Lord rise again, she'd canceled these sorts of meetings quite often for other such things, and the agency was growing suspicious. And the number one rule to being evil was don't let people get suspicious. 

She began to whisper into her mother's ear, "Mother, what is happening now that --" but her mother cut her off. 

"Not now, Padma," her mother whispered urgently. "Not now! People will wonder! We'll talk later, once we've apparated home." 

"Speaking of which," Padma said, abruptly changing the subject, "why don't we apparate home? I'll hold your hand while you apparate so that we'll go together and I won't splinch or something." 

"Okay, Padma," her mother said, "we'll do that." She feigned perfect, sweet love for her daughter. It was a disguise she had perfected long ago so that people wouldn't wonder. 

And they apparated home. 

Once home, Padma said, a bit impatiently, "So what's happening now that the Dark Lord has risen? Is France again ours?" 

Padma's mother smiled as she heard the word "ours." She had done a good job brainwashing the girl, and she was proud of it too. The girl was totally on the Dark Side. Good. 

"Yes, Padma, it is," she said. "We have France again. Our main enemy is England. We'll get the other countries, probably, but England is our main enemy. Speaking of which, I contacted our liege Lord." 

"Did you, Mother?" Padma said. "And what did he say?" Always show reverence to Mother, and only ask questions that were rhetorical, that Mother was about to answer anyway, or that Mother gave permission for. It worked. 

"He told me that, as a supporter of him and France, you had to say a promise. I'll give it to you -- the Dark Lord is far too busy to come and administer it himself, and why should he take precious time out of his day for you?" her mother asked. 

"I am ready, Mother," Padma said. 

"Good," her mother scowled. "I want you to promise to remain always loyal, to be a ready warrior, and to, if you must, die for the cause and die for your country. Do you promise these things, under the penalty of Cruciatus if you don't or if you disobey?" 

Something inside Padma told her that perhaps she shouldn't, and something bigger told her that she really didn't want to have to die for anything, even something as worthy as cause and country, but the brainwashing and her evil nature got the better of her, as always. "I promise, Mother. Under penalty of the Cruciatus." 

And her mother smiled a cruel, cold smile and said, "Good. You may need to." 

_To be Continued_

A.N.2.: So what'd you think? Was it awful? Was it great? Was it so-so? I'm dying to hear, so review!!!!! Reviews encourage me to continue! If you review, then I'll read any Non-R Non-NC17 Harry Potter fic or Original fic that you wrote (if you're an author, of course). So please review and remember...All's Well that Ends Well! (Don't ask. It's my authors name so I felt like saying it...)


	2. Plans

A.N.: I didn't get a ton of reviews for Part 1, but I did get some, plus an informal review from my brother, so I decided I'd continued. So without further ado, other than the reminder that All's Well that End's Well and a disclaimer, I'll go on to the story. 

Disclaimer: What do you think? That I'm J.K. Rowling? Have fun thinking that...and while your at it, wake up and smell the coffee and realize that I'm not! 

***

A newscaster's voice broadcasts over the British Wired Wizarding Network. "Hello, and Jim McNacker here to inform you of a late-breaking piece of news in the recent uprising of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As many know, France belongs to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named again, as it had when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was also in power about thirteen years ago. 

"England, under the supervision of Cornelius Fudge, who recently made the announcement that, in ways beyond his control, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose again and is in power. He has created more terror-filled events then ever, and therefore the Ministry of Magic as a whole has declared war on France." 

It brought to mind one of Parvati's lurking questions, one of these questions which had taken the place of, "What's the truth about Mom," when she'd found out the answer to that one. 

"Daddy," she asked her father, "what's with this whole France-Voldemort thing?" 

"It's a long, harsh story, my dear," he said. "But it's time you hear it, I suppose. Just remember to keep your ideals and your beliefs in spite of it all." 

"I will, Daddy," Parvati promised. "I will." Padma would have sneered if she could have heard that. Keep ideals and beliefs, her foot. Better not to have ideals or sweet beliefs in the first place, but if you did, by all means destroy them as soon as possible. And whatever you do, do not go out of your way to keep them. 

"Glad to hear it, sweety," he said. "Anyway, when Voldemort was very young, just out of school and still going by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle, he traveled to France because the ministry in England was after him over a few petty crimes -- nothing like the ones he does today, but he was scared of apprehension at the time. He's lost that a long while back, but that's another story for another day. 

"In his travels in France he met the French wizard Pierre DuPoint. Pierre DuPoint was, if you will, a dark-wizard-wannabe, or at least he used to be. However, when he met Voldemort -- or Tom Riddle, as he was then --, his wannabe attitude vanished and he became a loyal follower of Voldemort -- the first Voldemort had ever had. 

"And so it was that they decided that Tom Riddle needed a new name. He couldn't just go around being Tom Marvolo Riddle, former Head Boy and the guy that stole a lot of stuff from Knockturn Alley. So Pierre took it upon himself to come up with an appropriate pseudonym for Tom. 

Eventually he extracted the letters which formed the word Voldemort from this and, thinking it quite appropriate due to its meaning Flight of Death in his native language, brought it to Tom. Tom was please but noticed that there were a few extra letters and thus formed English words with them, finishing the phrase to be I Am Lord Voldemort. 

As I said, Pierre DuPoint wanted power. He was an aspiring Dark Wizard, but upon giving up on this, he became the Minister of Magic and made his hidden goal to use this newfound power to further Voldemort's cause. He propagandized the nation, slowly at first, just like your mother." As Padma opened her mouth, he waved her silent. "They didn't realize what was happening until they were too deep into the very mess which they had gotten themselves into by buying into DuPoint's propaganda. 

"And thus when DuPoint stepped down, he gave the power to Voldemort, not even with the traditional rigged election." He finished the speech. 

Parvati thought to herself that that was probably the most loquacious and eloquent speech her father had given -- not that that was saying much. "But Daddy," she said, voicing a query that was bothering her, "Then why haven't we found out about this in History of Magic?" 

"I wondered about that," answered her father, "And finally found that they do not teach it until sixth year." He scowled. "Something about you being too young. I personally think it's a load of nonsense, but school administration will be school administration, and who am I to protest? When in Rome do as the Romans." 

"Whatever you say Daddy," sighed Parvati. Padma, from outside the house, heard it and suppressed a giggle. Stupid little innocent suck-up. 

***

Padma returned home with the Portkey her mother had made sure she'd provided. Padma, personally, didn't see why she couldn't just illegally apparate, but her mother said that, though she had nothing against the illegal part, she wouldn't want her daughter splinching and drawing attention to the two's...illegality. 

Padma greeted her mother, "Well, Mother," she began. 

"Yes, Padma? Tell me, what did you gather?" 

"Not too much; most which I heard was only Father's silly propaganda about how awful the Dark Lord and his possession of France is. But I did catch that Parvati knows about you, Mother," Padma answered dutifully. She, unlike Parvati, didn't answer her mother and be nice just because she was stupid or a suck-up. It was just that she didn't want to defy her duty, especially after consideration of the consequences which would follow if she did. 

"He's told her?" Parvati's mother scowled. "Telling her more every day. Should have known that he would do that now that my Master has risen. Stupid man. He should have known that We would find out and the results would be...in a word, unpleasant. But then, he's stupid and idealistic, just like his daughter, no? In spite of all his supposed wisdom, knowledge, he is still so stupid, so innocent." 

"Yes, Mother." Always agree with Mother. That was important. 

"Yes, we'll see about this. We certainly will." 

***

Cold wind whipped their faces, but it was nothing to the group. Thirty men, one woman, one child, and one master were assembled there, and they had far more on their minds than complaints over the cold wind. 

"We assemble here tonight to develop an important plan...nay, not just important, a necessary, a vital part of our master plan. 

"A man in this very nation, England, which we assemble in, is a danger to us. A man living so close, in this very village by which we assemble. He is telling too much. Luckily, we have apprehended this early, thanks to a special member of our assembly today." 

The Death Eaters all looked at Parvati, some saying congratulatory phrases, others just staring at her, apparently in thought. "Ah yes, we all congratulate, yet what if I were to tell you that one of you was the responsible for the betrayal? That one of our number was defying the Master Plan, and was the one who had to be dealt with? What then?" 

All thirty-two -- the thirty men, the two others -- looked around at one another suspiciously, wands drawn, wondering if it could be their neighbor. Could it be the very comrade who they had been drinking with in the nearby pub just a few minutes ago? The friend whom they had owled just an hour ago? Could they be the friend of the traitor and thus be accused of "consorting with the enemy." 

Finally a voice spoke up. It was Wormtail's. "Who then is the traitor, Master?" 

"Shut your mouth, Wormtail!" Voldemort shouted, turning around, expression still set in the angry, hateful expression he always wore. "None. None are the traitor." 

"Then why...why did you say that, Master," asked Wormtail, muscles in his cheek twitching. 

"Just for amusement," Voldemort said cruelly. "Seeds of suspicion grow to be fruits of hatred -- and fruits of hatred is what we must live off of as death eaters. Never forget this." 

Half the Death-Eaters didn't appear to quite grasp what Voldemort meant, but they nodded anyway. Always agree with Master. That was important. 

"Nay, but he is still a danger to you! You mustn't forget that. And we must deal with him. That is the special duty I am giving to Nott and Avery -- and to Melinda Patil to help out with." 

Melinda seemed -- and was -- glad. She, as a woman, didn't generally get a lot of assignments, but when she did she thrived on them. Hating people and cruelty were her specialties. "What is my job, Master? Anything to serve you." 

"Good. I am glad for your obedience. Your job is this: the traitor is your husband. And you, with whatever tools you have, must find him." 

Thoughts raced through her head. Padma. That was what she would use. Padma would do. She could get to the house -- she'd done it before -- through a simple charm that allowed twins to find one another. It was ancient magic, supposedly. That would do. Then she could tell her what the location was. 

"I will, Master," she said. "I will be sure to do my best." 

"Do your best?" Voldemort sneered. "How...touching. I do love to see my Death Eaters trying their best. Unfortunately, in this situation, trying your best is NOT ENOUGH! You must do it, not try to! And perhaps a little...punishment will show you that. Crucio!" 

Melinda writhed in pain as the curse hit her. These were the moments when she hated her master with all her blood, with all her heart, with every bit of flesh and bone she possessed. She normally had no problem with him -- especially his ideals, which she fully believed -- but even she broke down a little when she was being tortured. 

Padma looked at her mother in astonishment. THIS was what happened at the meetings? Cruciatus curse? She'd thought that Voldemort was only cruel to evil people like her mudblood father and her stupid sister and the other people her deserved it. Yet here it was happening to a good person, someone she didn't think was bad -- her MOTHER! 

She'd have to talk about this with Mother later. Surely Mother would have a good explanation. And even if the explanation wasn't good, she would believe it, because you always believe what Mother says. Still, a nagging doubt gnawed away in a forgotten and forsaken corner of Padma's mind. 

Padma thanked the Lord when the curse was over. She hated seeing Mother suffer, even if Mother wasn't her favorite person in the world. Voldemort resumed speaking. "I trust that now you will do your duty, and not merely TRY to, right Melinda?" 

"Right," said Melinda, carefully not letting her voice be any weaker than it had before the curse, even though it was hard. Don't let Voldemort show that he's gotten to you, even though he already knows. That was something you learned almost immediately when you became a Death Eater. 

"Good," Voldemort said. "Then we can proceed. Nott and Avery will go to the location which Patil will, of course, have found. Nott will assure that all is safe and that it will work out. Then Avery, because of his extensive use and his great...expertise when it comes to the Unforgivables, will say the curse: a simple Avada Kedavra." 

"We will do this, my Lord," said Nott and Avery in unison. 

"Good," said Voldemort. "Do this -- or else you know what the consequences will be. And I don't expect you'd enjoy them, would you." 

The meeting was dismissed, but the Death Eaters remained a bit longer as they prepared to Disapparate. It gave Padma some time to think. The Master was supposed to be perfect and wonderful. So why did he just practically torture her mother to death? And why did everyone act like it was just an every-day occurence for someone to get tortured half-to-death? Surely it wasn't...was it? 

Not realizing that these were ideals that she was holding, the very things she so utterly despised, Padma made sure to keep them in mind...not to ask her mother, for you never ask unsolicited questions to Mother, but to think about another time. 

And as they returned home, so did a solitary figure on a nearby hill. 

_To Be Continued_

A.N.2.: In case you couldn't tell, the dude on the hill was Parvati and Padma's father. He saw everything that happened. If you want more (and even if you don't), please **review!**


	3. Betrayal

A.N.: I think I'm going to start thanking everyone who reviews, so now I'll start by thanking all people who reviewed parts one and/or two; thanks go to RavenLady, brokenflower, Lily White, Demon Child, and =Skade=. Oh, and you know Pierre DuPoint? You know, the French guy who helped out Voldemort? I didn't mean to make his name sound so much like the inventor Pierre DuPont...it just sort of happened. I didn't find out about DuPont until my dad recently told me. I guess I just had the name deep deep deep in my subconscious and it rose out when I needed a French name...hehe. Posted very early in the morning on Easter because I had to get up at 4:00 because I have to go to Sunrise Service this morning and be there at five to help with the preparing stuff...bring stuff back in because they were taken out for Maundy Thursday and stuff like that. Anyway, on with the third, action-packed and somewhat twisted, part of this fic...after the disclaimer, anyway... 

Disclaimer: I love cats. My cat belongs to me. So does the twisted plot of this thing that isn't even really that twisted compared to some plots I've seen. However, the Harry Potter characters and related stuff do not belong to me. Duh. 

***

Parvati walked out from her room as she heard the slam of the door, signifying her fathers entrance. Her father had left, saying something like, "I'm going on errands." Parvati didn't bother to question him further; he had to be telling the truth. After all, he WAS her father. 

But she couldn't help but wonder when she saw him sitting in the living room, head in hands and looking entirely distressed. "What's wrong, Daddy?" she asked gently. 

"Nothing, Parvati," he answered warily. "Nothing at all." 

But the truth was there was far more than nothing at all on his mind that moment. Because he had just witnessed It for the first time. A Death Eater meeting. It was...eerie. Something he had imagined too many times to count, but was so different from whatever he had imagined. The atmosphere seemed to be so thick it crushed you, the aura around Voldemort frightening enough to drive even the most innocent person who didn't know who -- or what -- the Dark Lord was away. 

And there was his wife, right in the middle of it all and looking all the more happy for it. 

The memory was clear and vivid in his mind then. They were assembled in a circle. A lot of men and someone he knew was his wife and Voldemort. But that wasn't what really scared him. What really scared him was the last figure. 

Because it was Parvati. Unmistakably, undeniably Parvati. The same hair, the same eyes, wearing those familiar plain black robes. Who else could it be BUT Parvati? 

He sighed. It was all giving him a headache and a heartache as well. His wife and his dearest -- or formally dearest -- daughter plotting to kill a man...who was the man? He wanted to know so bad. The man had to know. He couldn't have this knowledge that somebody was about to be killed and just do nothing! 

And his wife! Much as it panged him to remember, he could still recall the love he had had for her which had been shattered into a million pieces when he found out the truth about her and the Dark Lord. And one of those million pieces, just one but significant nonetheless, remained. The edges of it were sharp, piercing his very soul. It was only a remain, but even small remains can wound our hearts. 

But who were they going to kill? 

It was driving him mad. 

Who could it be? Then he realized. He shivered in realization that the man who lived just across the street was about to be killed...and with the aid, he realized, of the girl standing in his company just now. He swore aloud. Then, "Morrison!" 

Parvati seemed worried. "Daddy, tell me what it is!" 

But all her father did was cursed her and called her names so vulgar that she had never heard them and then stormed out of the room after saying, "You traitor. You God-cursed betrayer." He then crossed the street to the house of his best friend. 

***

Padma was cracking up with laughter about the silly drama which the man was creating. A little misery was enough to cure her doubts and fears about the Dark Lord torturing her mother -- at least for a while, anyway. Tears of laughter were streaming down her face as tears of sorrow simultaneously streamed down her sisters. 

For the man to think that it was Morrison that they were out to kill -- really! Her father _was_ very stupid, but really. For the man to not realize that they were talking about HIM? Even if he didn't hear the beginning, he should have been able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Silly of Mother to send her out just to find out what the man knew. Mother should have known that her ex was too stupid to figure it out anyway. 

She caught herself. Never think Mother is less than perfect. Thoughts can become words and actions far too easily -- she had witnessed this enough in her life -- and if this thought became word or action, the consequences...well, quite frankly, she didn't even want to think about what the consequences would be. 

But the really funny part was when he thought that she was Parvati. Ordinarily she'd be angry -- to take her for an idiot like Parvati was just the kind of thing that could stir her up -- but this just made her laugh. She loved seeing the Enemy hurt and, of course, Parvati WAS the Enemy. There was no mistaking that. 

Momentarily she wondered why Parvati was the Enemy. She wasn't bad blood or anything, and really, she hadn't done anything against the Dark Side. All she had done was failed to be enlightened to the truth -- and what crime, really, was that when she had no control over it? 

Padma pushed the thought away. That Parvati was the Enemy was a thought ingrained in her mind long ago by Mother and the Dark Lord. And you never, ever, reject what either said. Take it without thought, and never contemplate it. Contemplation could be dangerous, Padma knew, so she just avoided the act completely. Better safe than sorry, they always said. 

She smiled. She knew enough from the few times she had spied on him that Father was, indeed, the idealistic, silly man which Mother had said he was. The type that could be so easily shattered when they found out something they didn't want to believe about a person just because they had put their trust so foolishly, their love so stupidly, into such a volatile thing: a person. 

And when these people were shattered, they went...almost insane. They did things which they wouldn't believe they could do if they had foreseen it. She supposed it was like Peter. He put his trust in a person -- himself --, trusting that he would do right at all times. So when he was shattered by the people's inquiries as to whether he knew Jesus, he denied that he knew the man three times. But before it, he didn't believe that it could happen. [Sorry...I think I've been hearing the Passion a little too much since Easter's coming up so it's sort of seeping into my stories...hehe.] 

She shook her head. No time for the Bible now. She had to get home now. She looked around for her normal Portkey. It wasn't their. She inwardly cursed. Her mother had forgotten it, but if something went wrong with it Mother would blame her anyway. That was how Mother was. She'd just have to apparate. Mother wouldn't be angry... 

...Unless she messed up. And that was the only catch...and the entire problem. Because she did just that: mess up. She splinched. And she groaned and cursed rampantly; first, as she was just remembering now, she had forgotten to get the wretched location of the place, which was her prime -- her only -- mission in going there. 

And then, her head -- the only part of her body in the vicinity of her mother -- saw her mother's angry, infuriated face screaming at her. And she cursed and let a single tear enter one of her eyes, only barely managing to hold it back. Now there would be hell to pay. And her mother looked at her, anger in her eyes, and said, "You splinched. You SPLINCHED! Stupid girl...you will pay for this. Oh yes, you will. Do not doubt that." And that was when Padma really became scared. 

***

Parvati stared out the window, tears falling freely down her face. Great. Just great. Now her father had turned against her. 

She had fared the last few days bravely, she thought, but the bravery was beginning to crack, her facade of cool understanding shattering to pieces before her very eyes. How could it be happening now? 

And what in blazes was he saying, her being at a meeting of the Death Eaters? She had thought that her father's trust, her father's love, for her was one thing that would surely remain no matter what. So much for that thought. 

How could he? The thought screamed out in her mind, blocking out all others. How could this be happening to HER, Parvati Patil? She recalled the thoughts she had thought just a few hours ago. She thought she was blessed. Well, so much for that thought too. Now she knew: she was cursed. 

She groaned in emotional agony, an agony she had never known existed. The whole world as she knew it was crumbling before her very eyes. Was this how it would look when the world ended -- however it ended, by apocalypse or by the end of the sun? Was that how they would feel? 

She looked across the street at her father. He had knocked on the door across the street...who did it belong to again? Ah yes -- the Morrison family, of course. An old friend of her fathers. Why did Father think that she was going to kill them? Or that they would get killed at all? 

She realized she was calling her father Father now instead of just Daddy. Did that mean anything? 

But she didn't have time to wonder about that. All she could wonder about now was why: why her father hated her now and what led him to think SHE consorted with the Death Eaters; why he thought Morrison was going to be killed; and what the truth was about everything. 

***

He pounded on the door anxiously. "Andrew, Andrew! Open the door for me, for God's sake!" His heart pounded anxiously in his throat as one thought ran rapidly through the crazy highways that were his mind: Could he be dead already and I'm too late? 

Mercifully, he was not. Andrew opened the door. "For the love of Christ, Timothy, what is it?" 

Timothy Patil was shaking like a leaf, shaking as he never had before. Tears and sweat mingled with one another on his face. "They're--they're going to get you!" Timothy finally spoke in a trembling voice. 

Andrew's expression was not the scared, shocked, or numb one Timothy had expected but merely one of confusion. "Timothy, you're speaking to me like a child! Now what is the matter, really? Start at the beginning: who is going to do what to me?" 

"The Death Eaters!" said Timothy, only calming down a bit. "They're -- they're plotting to kill you! I heard it. I witnessed one of their meetings. 

Now the reaction happened. His expression fluctuated between numbness and fear. "Timothy -- you can't be telling me the truth!" 

"I wish I wasn't," Timothy said, with a resigned sigh. Somehow he was less fearful, less anxious now that he had told. It was, at least, off his back. He had done all he could now. "But I'm telling the truth, Timothy, I promise." 

"Isn't -- isn't there anything you or I could do about it?" he looked anxious, scared. Of course he did. No one -- well, not no one, but few certainly -- wanted to be killed because of the most evil wizard on the planet. 

"No, Andrew," Timothy sighed. It was true...unless, "I've got it! How we can protect you!" 

"How?" asked Andrew, skeptical. But when he heard the plan, even he had to smile. That would work. Yes, that would certainly work. 

***

When Timothy returned to his home and saw his daughter, his almost-benign emotions at helping Andrew disappeared abruptly. Stupid, dratted traitor! He still didn't understand how she could have done it. He had been so utterly overtaken, so utterly fooled by the girl. How could she? 

Finally he managed to speak. "How could you, Parvati?" 

"Daddy --" 

"Hold your tongue, girl!" He nearly screamed at her. "You've fooled me long enough with your Daddy and I Promise nonsense! I can't believe you. You swear to me that you will be loyal, if necessary you will fight and die for England, and then you don't even fulfill the first!" 

"But Daddy --" 

"Stop trying to fool me! It isn't going to work!" he was red in the face, angered, cruel. It scared Parvati; she had never seen her father like this. Saddened, yes, scared, yes, but not angered nor cruel. It was something foreign to her father's face. 

"Daddy!" she tried to speak, but nothing happened. Or rather, something did, but all it was was another interruption. 

"Parvati, I know you're betraying me and us," Timothy growled. "I'm not trying to bring you to trial because I know the stupid people wouldn't convict dear, sweet, "Daddy-ing" Parvati unless their lives depended upon it. And there's still that little bit of love for you." Parvati was surprised. Her father still loved her? She was tempted to interrupt but did not, knowing her attempts would be futile. 

"But I can't have a spy, a traitor, one who betrays, staying in my house, being able to spy on the very person who is my best friend. So we will have to do something, won't we? Perhaps to Albringer Summer Camp for Witches?" 

"No!" Parvati finally yelled, half expecting to be interrupted. The interruption, however, never happened so she continued: "I'm sure its nice and all but they're all snobs and I only get to be home in the summer and...I just don't want to go!" 

She wasn't sure what it was about Albringer, it was just that there was something with it that made her know it was not a place she wanted to go. 

"Parvati, don't think you're going to get any sympathy from me, even if I still love you," Timothy half-roared. "You're not. And if you won't go there on your own free will, I'll make you." And he roared the banishing charm at a trembling Parvati Patil. 

The first time she had ever seen him use cruelty. But here he was, banishing her like an object? How could he? How could kind, sweet Daddy do that to HER? Even if we do strange things induced by potent circumstances, how could he? 

But she didn't have much time when she peered around her new surroundings and her heart sank. Before she just had vague awareness that the place was not going to be good. Now it was as clear as day why. And it was nothing light. 

It was something very, very dark. 

To Be Continued

A.N.2: Can you tell why? Probably most people can...but I won't spoil it for anyone who can't. Anyway, please read Part 3, in which you will learn why Timothy is so sure that Andrew will be killed, what's going to happen to Padma because she splinched, what the idea was about how Timothy was going to protect Andrew, whether Timothy will realize that it wasn't Parvati, what is so awful about this summer camp, and more! Soon to come in Part 4! (Hey, it rhymes...more and four. Hehe.)


	4. Protection

A.N.: I know I haven't written anything new for this series forever, but I'm finally getting back to it...hehe, probably no one will read because everyone will have forgotten about it. :-( Still, please review if you do! Anyway, this is a really major part and I really want reviews, and my birthday is tomorrow (I'm turning fourteen) so please review as a little birthday present!! Anyway, some bad language at the beginning but nothing we haven't heard before...rather short because I have mild writer's block, especially on this... 

Disclaimer: The characters and Harry Potter things don't belong to me right now, but I head my parents talk about giving them to me for my birthday, so maybe they will tomorrow. ;-) 

***

"You were there," Parvati looked at Padma, expression set in an angry, hard look. "It's you that my father thinks was me at that Death Eater meeting. And now I'm going to...I'm going to be at summer camp with you!" 

Padma laughed. "It's the first time you've figured anything out in your life. Congratulations!" 

Parvati glared at Padma. "You bitch. You fucking bitch." 

That just made Padma laugh even more. "Ooh, Parvati's discovering the art of using bad words to bitch at her sister...is this the first time you've ever used them, Parvati, dear sister?" 

"Just shut the fuck up," Parvati yelled at her. 

A girl looked over from across the cabin. "What the hell are you two Brits talking about? I thought you were the only one in this stupid cabin with me, Padma...now this girl is here too. Honestly, and what are two Brits doing in an American summer camp?" 

Padma sighed. "You know well enough. I splinched and my mum's too afraid I'll say the wrong thing so she sent me away so she could deal with the questions alone...she's rather upset over me splinching, you know, and if I were to answer the questions myself I probably would say something that would get me a huge fine...my mum doesn't want to have to pay more than she really has to." Most of it was the truth...she just left out some little details, like the fact that her mother was a death eater. 

"And now your twin is here, I see...is this what happens when you live together at home?" Jessi raised an eyebrow. 

"Jessi, just get your nose out of other people's business and keep it in that book of yours, would you?" 

"Fine, fine," Jessi said with a slight laugh. "I only wanted to know how come you're reunited with your sister...and why she hasn't mentioned yet the fact that your mother's a Death Eater." 

Suddenly Padma's pulse quickened slightly. "You -- you..." she was about to say _know_, but then she realized that would just be admitting as much, "...liar," she finished feebly. "You liar." 

Jessi shook her head. "Don't even try that on me. I know. How could I not know when my father told me he saw you at the last meeting?" 

Padma laughed. "Oh, you're on our side. Sorry, you always have to be careful though, you know." 

"Of course," Jessi replied. "Always." 

And all the meantime, Parvati was just swearing and praying. When Padma and Jessi's conversation finally seized, all Padma heard was her sister: "How could I be stuck in a cabin with two people that want me dead?" 

Padma just laughed. "How? Only because you're the only one who doesn't want you dead...you, dear sister, are the only non-Death Eater here. I used to think that you had a companion in Jessi, but now I know you have none. There is only one non-Death Eater at this camp. And with any luck, by month's end there will be none." 

And Jessi and Padma laughed at the Parvati's visage: one of horror, scared comprehension, and unhappiness. 

***

_Dear Dumbledore,_ (Timothy Patil quickly wrote) 

_Please listen to me. This is of the utmost importance. I have reason to know that Voldemort wishes to kill Andrew Morrison and his family. Parvati is plotting with him, for she knows everything about him, including his close friendship with Severus Snape and that Snape is a spy for us...Andrew was, after all, her guardian when I was in flight. You must come immediately." _

Timothy 

Hand shaking slightly, Timothy quickly folded the letter and put it in the envelope. He carefully marked it for Dumbledore and told Tranquility (his owl), "This needs to get to Dumbledore. Now. God speed." 

And Tranquility flew off into the distance. Tranquility, in both senses, was never to return. 

***

Andrew looked out the window, a worried expression playing itself upon his face. He couldn't believe Parvati had turned on him...she had been such a sweet child when he had taken care of her between the ages of one and eight...that was before Andrew's name had been cleared. 

He needed to find the girl, to tell her what he really thought of her, to...just to see her. Surely she had become a beast or something, for in the way she was last time he had seen her, she couldn't be that monster who was trying to kill him...she couldn't be. 

He began to write a letter to her but stopped when he heard the knock on the door. 

***

"You're sure about this?" Dumbledore said. "You're not just drawing improper conclusions about Parvati?" 

"Damn right I'm not!" Timothy said, finding himself hard-pressed to contain his rage. "I know it when I see my own daughter." 

"You're not seeing Padma, then?" Dumbledore asked softly. 

Ordinarily this would have lit a spark for Timothy, made him realize the truth, but never under these circumstances. "I can tell my Parvati from that Padma. Do you think I lived with her for seven years for nothing?" 

"We can all make incorrect assumptions in fear," Dumbledore spoke, softly and wisely, not making any convictions but that Timothy could be wrong. 

"Dumbledore, that's all very fine and all, but right now I need to protect my best friend, not try to pretend that my daughter isn't really trying to kill him!" Timothy almost yelled at Dumbledore. 

"Yes, yes, that is the matter at hand, isn't it?" Dumbledore sighed. "Ah well then, on with the business." He knocked swiftly on the door and the two entered. 

"Oh, thank God," Andrew let out a sigh of relief. "It's you. I thought...maybe..." The thought was left unfinished, but all knew what he meant to say. 

"The Fidelius charm is a very hard charm, a hard one indeed," Dumbledore began. "It involves a long German charm, but that's not the difficulty. What's difficult is that the person being protected must put complete trust in his or her protector. Complete and total trust." 

"I -- I would trust Timothy with my life," Andrew said. 

"Good," Dumbledore said. "This charm should go very well then." And he began to rattle off the German charm after telling Andrew to hold this sentiment strong during the charm: "Ich will mit du immer sein, und mit dir ist mein Trost..." 

***

"So what's with this whole Andrew Morrison deal?" Padma asked Parvati idly. She grinned. This could prove very...rewarding. Voldemort had no reason to want Andrew...yet. But soon, Padma suspected, he would. Jessi, too, looked on with curiosity. 

"It's...it's that...why am I telling you this?" Parvati stuttered. 

"Because," Jessi interjected, "If you don't I have some Veritaserum that will work just fine for this." She smiled as Parvati gulped. 

"Well...because he has the thought-guarding charm for Severus Snape that keeps anyone from knowing what Snape is thinking..." Parvati sighed. She really, really didn't want to say this, but what choice did she have? What was to be gained?" An echo, as though from the past, came: "Only innocent lives...only innocent lives." But she shook it off. No lives could be gained, she told herself. 

And meanwhile, Padma and Jessi were grinning at one another. "Very useful," one said. "Very useful." 

***

There was something exhausting about the whole experience, Timothy realized, with the Fidelius charm. But no matter. He was saving a life. He sat down in his chair and smiled... 

...a smile which soon vanished with the figure that loomed outside his door. And in that instant, Timothy realized it: that it was not Andrew that they were after but him. And now there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

He screamed, a piercing, heart-stopping, blood-curdling scream. 

To Be Continued

A.N.: Please please please do review...for my birthday, okay? C'mon, you've read this far, you have to review. It's really not that hard...a simple, "I liked it," or, "I hated it," will suffice.


	5. Battle

A.N.: Okay, so I haven't updated this in forevvvvver....sorry. *grins sheeplishly* I should have written this part during my three weeks at CTY but I just was too lazy and couldn't be moved to do it. Anyway, I have big major writer's block here...not really writer's block because I know basically what's going to happen, it's just that I'm having trouble writing it. Oh well, let's just get a move on. 

Disclaimer: Stuff I don't own doesn't belong to me. What a revelation that was. 

***

Padma felt a familiar burning sensation in her left arm and began to disapparate from the camp, hoping she wouldn't splinch _again_, considering her...bad luck she'd been having. 

Half-intuitively and half by deduction, Parvati realized where her sister was going and managed to hold on to her so that they would disapparate together, hardly knowing why she wanted to witness Voldemort try to kill her father and what she would even do about it. 

***

He screamed, a piercing, heart-stopping, blood-curdling scream. 

"Timothy," the words came out of Voldemort's mouth in an erie way, as though he were lazy. "So we meet again, but this time with the knowledge that you are possibly Dumbledore's most trusted spy. 

"I always knew you were on the good side, but never that you--" 

He was cut short by a voice all too familiar to Timothy. "I thought this was my job, Lord," she said, and perhaps his ears were deceiving him, but he thought that he could detect a whining note in her voice. 

"Oh...of course, you would want to do the honors, wouldn't you, Mrs. Patil...oh, and of course Misssss Patil," Voldemort said with a slightly sarcastic laugh, stretching the Miss out just long enough for the shock of his own daughter's betrayal. "Parvati!" he screamed and Dumbledore's words wafted through his mind: 'Are you sure it's not Padma?' 

He gave them momentary consideration and gave himself a momentary shard of tentative hope, tentative hope which was soon to end with the site before him: _both_ of his daughters, the one whom he had disowned and the one whom he was just about to disown, standing before him, leaving absolutely no doubt in his mind that Parvati was, indeed, a cursed betrayer. 

In spite of the fear that drove him to near madness, in spite of the hopelessness that left him in chasms of despair, in spite of all of it -- or perhaps because of all of it -- Timothy had no hesitance in crying to Parvati's shocked form, "How could you, Parvati? How could you betray?" 

"But father..." she began to protest but then saw that her father would pay no heed to her words, and simply said, "I love you. I want to protect you, I want to save you, Daddy." 

"Ha!" Timothy said, with an unusually sarcasm and bitterness in his voice. "Don't even try that one on me, making me trust you when really you'll be telling Voldemort every blasted thing about me. You've obviously taken special care to apparate here from Albringer's." 

Beginning to sob, Parvati choked out the words, "Yes, special care so that I could help you, Daddy, so I could protect you, Daddy, so I could save you, and maybe at least make you see some sense." 

"I've already seen sense, don't try to deceive me with your stupid lies," Timothy almost growled the words. 

"Enough, enough, children," Valerie (Padma's mother) said sarcastically. "It looks like early bedtime for Timothy -- a very early, endless bed-time...and perhaps for you, too, Parvati, if we deign to do so..." She laughed. "How kind it is to be given such power. 

"Power over everything from whether the violets in Timothy's garden lives or dies up to whether Timothy himself lives or dies...how pleasant it is..." she smiled lazily, showing off perfect white teeth. 

"That's all you ever wanted, isn't it?" Timothy snarled at her. "Power. Power over my life, power over my daughters' lives, power over everyone's lives...and everyone's death too." 

"Of course, did it take you that long to realize it?" Valerie said, in an almost pleasant tone. "Now I think I'll just...excercise a little of that wondrous power." 

And just as Valerie spoke the simple words, "Avada Kedavra," Timothy spoke his last words: "Parvati, you God-cursed betrayer..." 

Voldemort ascended from the background into the foreground. "Well done, Valerie, well done, if I do say so myself." 

Valerie couldn't help but smile slightly. "Why thank you...I'd best be going now, with my _two_ daughters," she took much care to emphasize the word two. 

Parvati, however, was to overcome -- with grief for the loss of her father, remorse for not doing anything, anger for her father not believing her, and too many other things, far too many -- to even register what her mother was saying. She did not realize until they were already at Valerie's house in France what had just happened, and then she sobbed, letting out not only the emotions of her having to move in with her mother -- a _Death Eater_ -- but also all the ones she had been holding inside for so long. 

***

"Stupid girl," Voldemort muttered as he watched Valerie disapparate. "She thinks she has enough power to just come and go at will without even asking me. Well, I'll show her..." he quickly apparated to France, and somewhere inside him he was glad; France was, after all, a safe haven for him, far more safe than England. 

Arriving at Valerie's house, he entered. "Valerie!" he commanded her to come. 

"What is it, my lord?" Valerie responded, hastily coming into the living room. 

"You _know_ you mustn't do _anything_ -- even disapparate -- without my permission, Valerie. How could you have forgotten?" 

Trembling slightly, Valerie responded, "I'm -- I'm sorry, my lord, really, I am, please..." 

But in spite of it all, Voldemort's only response was, "Crucio," and he watched with slight pleasure at a scene which Padma and even Parvati were watching with pain: a woman being tortured, wishing for help, cursing her own life. 

He slowly released the curse. "I must speak to Padma," he said, "Be glad, for if I didn't it would be more." 

"Yes, my lord," replied Valerie, voice trembling. 

***

"So...you have some information that might interest me about this Andrew Morrison?" Voldemort leered as he looked into the face of his future Death Eater. 

"Yes, my lord," Padma tried to imitate her mother's reverence but failed miserably. "I have learned that he holds something which keeps all people -- even you -- from knowing Severus Snape's thoughts. I think you can see the implications of this, my lord..." 

"Yes, I certainly do see the implications..." a grin began to sweep across Voldemort's face and Parvati, watching from a small distance, felt sickened as she stared at the excuse for a man that was in front of her, watching half in fascination that a man could be so cruel, another human could do such things. 

"You couldn't tell me...where this substance is being kept, could you?" Voldemort asked, boring his eyes into Padma as he would see the words she was about to speak by doing so. 

"No, my lord, I cannot, but perhaps Parvati..." Padma's voice trailed off. 

"Parvati," Voldemort let the word roll around on his tongue, "Your twin sister, of course," and he approached a frightened Parvati. 

***

"Really, Parvati, in the end you have no choice, why don't you just make it easier for both of us and tell me now?" 

"I could refuse," Parvati struggled to mantain her brave facade and her brave act, "I still have a choice." 

"Yes...but in the end you'll make the choice to tell me," Voldemort told her, laughing inwardly at the girl's idealism. "Even if it takes a little...something to make you." 

"V-Veritaserum?" Numb with shock, Parvati looked around in fear as though seeking an escape. 

"Oh, I doubt it will come with that," Voldemort laughed slightly, and inwardly he knew that he wouldn't let it come to that, knowing that some could resist it if they had a strong enough will, and something told him that Parvati did. "I think all you really need is a simple little torture. Crucio." And Parvati writhed, feeling senseless pain, feeling so much pain that she could not voice the cries for help that ran rampant within her mind. 

After a time that seemed an eternity, Voldemort released the curse, and Parvati, week and trembling, tried to know what to say. Cause a man's death -- nay, two men's deaths -- or have Voldemort torture her again? War between the two sides raged in her mind, and finally they came to what seemed a peace treaty: she simply lie to Voldemort about it all. 

"It's -- it's in the second cupboard to the right on the middle shelf," she hastily made up a place. 

"You think you can lie to me that easily?" Voldemort laughed as he saw the visage of horror Parvati wore as she said, "You -- you know," before she could stop herself. 

"Of course I know. Why else do you think that filthy spy Severus would need something to guard his thoughts?" 

Parvati groaned and, in hopelessness and despair, told him all: where it was, that Andrew had discovered it, and too many things, and the words once again passed her in the winds of her mind: only innocent lives...only innocent lives. 

_To Be Continued_

A.N.2.:That was _really_ short, but what can I say? I had a lot of trouble writing this, so please review. After all, it is kinda pointless to get this far and not even review, isn't it?


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